2012 — 16 March: Friday

The 02:40 train having just rattled past1 I suppose I'd better think of calling it a night while there's still some night left...

And so to the next day. I have a noon appointment with "Nurse Judith" which should have me unstitched, and there's some foody shopping needed before then, not to mention picking up the package that Junior addressed to himself at my address (not that I have any ID that might persuade Ms Postie that I am he). It's another grey start to the day. Ever onward.

Mustn't forget...

... to get two birthday cards and a "Welcome to your new home" card (if such a thing exists) on my next little expotition. But the aisles of the Rose that Waits were very pleasantly uncrowded a few minutes ago. Breakfast, Mrs Landingham? Good idea.

I know the feeling:

It seems obvious that any serious reader will have learned long ago how much time to give a book before choosing to shut it. It's only the young, still attached to that sense of achievement inculcated by anxious parents, who hang on doggedly when there is no enjoyment... Is a good book by definition one that we did finish? Or are there occasions when we might choose to leave off a book before the end, or even only half way through, and nevertheless feel that it was good, even excellent, that we were glad we read what we read, but don't feel the need to finish it? I ask the question because this is happening to me more and more often. Is it age, wisdom, senility?

Tim Parks in NY Review of Books

It's surprisingly cold out there, given the BBC assured me it would be mild. Right. Time to go and lose my stitches. [Pause] At one point in the process, Nurse J nearly decided to get the GP who'd stitched me up last week. She kept apologising, but the blood loss was minimal, and the sensation far from last week's injection of the 'local'. I never even screamed :-)

In other news, I got my three snailmails written and posted already. But could find nothing that appealed in Jonathan's Arcade bookshop. No matter. Time for a spot of lunch, methinks.

"Bother!", said Pooh

Or, guess who forgot to recall, in time, that he was warned last week that this week's Mayo and Kermode film review programme was going to be two hours earlier than usual to make space for some silly sports thing?

A little ironic to see that Apple stock briefly hit $600 for the first time yesterday, and is currently the world's most valuable company. IBM stock touched $596 44 years ago in February 1968 (just saying).



1  Shaking the house barely at all compared to the trains that were running back in the summer of 1981 when I first moved in.